No One Mourns the Wicked
by ToastandOut
Summary: 15-year-old Harry Potter doesn't know what he's getting into when he accepts to travel to the past and kill the young, handsome, and dashing Tom Riddle before he can morph into the frightening Lord Voldemort. But when he starts to have feelings for Riddle, killing him may be harder than anticipated. Rated T, might change to M for later chapters. Tom Riddle/Harry
1. Chapter 1

Dumbledore's office seemed bigger than usual.

Of course, that was most likely the nerves fluttering in Harry's stomach talking, but as he looked around the large room, he couldn't help but feel like he just took a shrinking potion of a sort- like Alice in Wonderland, actually.

Digging his nails in his palms, he heard a loud _whoosh! _near his ear, and he turned just in time to be smacked by Fawkes's outstretched wing. He somehow felt calmer that the large, fiery bird was there. It was nice to see the bird again, nice to see another human being in the room that _wasn't _a painting.

Why did Dumbledore ask Harry, of all people, to come into his office? He hadn't broken any school rules, or upset any teacher- except for Snape, but, after all, it was _Snape-, _and he couldn't help but fidget as he tried to recall any sort of prank he might've pulled in the last 24 hours.

Harry took a seat at the Headmaster's desk and drummed his fingers on the calloused wood with nervous, impatient taps. He had half a mind to just get up and head over to Charms class, but then he heard the soft swish of a door opening behind him, and in an instant Dumbledore was at the desk, his eyes twinkling as they took in Harry.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Harry," Dumbledore smiled- the sort of smile that would make even Snape blush. Harry lowered his eyes and stared at the prominent bumps on the desk, shrugging in response. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"You must be wondering why I called you here, Harry." He said, in a cheerful, though slightly strained, voice. Harry looked up, the butterflies in his stomach more distressed than ever. He managed to choke out a _yes, sir, _before looking away.

"I have been thinking, and when one gets to thinking, they get ideas. And when one gets ideas…" Dumbledore chuckled and rummaged for something in his desk. About a half minute later, he pulled out a long, silvery chain holding a-

"That's a Time-Turner!" Harry exclaimed, his heart racing considerably faster than before, if that was possible. What was Professor Dumbledore doing with a Time-Turner?

_Maybe he goes back in time to have tea with Mozart, _Harry thought, and a bemused smile graced his features. The very thought of Dumbledore happily eating biscuits and drinking tea with the famous composer was ludicrous.

"Correct, Harry." Dumbledore said, smiling kindly. "But this is no ordinary Time-Turner. No," he continued, "this is a _different _sort of Time-Turner."

He paused- for dramatic affect, Harry guessed.

"What sort of Time-Turner is it?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes flashing curiously. The Time-Turner looked no different than any other Time-Turner he'd seen- except for the fact that it was silver, whereas the others were gold.

"It can travel you back in years- a year, a decade, even a century if you chose so." Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes glued on Harry's face.

"What's that all got to do with me?" Harry frowned, his forehead creasing as he did.

"Oh, it has _everything _to do with you, my dear boy," Dumbledore said earnestly. "Do you think you're up for a bit of time traveling?"

Harry felt his heart drop in his stomach.

He'd already had a strong taste of time traveling back in 3rd year, when he had gone back in time with one of his best friends, Hermione Granger, to save his godfather from a dementor's kiss. It was quite a long story, but Harry could remember that he did _not _enjoy his time in the past, and was fairly certain that this time wouldn't be all that different.

"S-sir?" He stammered.

"Voldemort," Dumbledore sighed, closing his eyes as he did, "is getting stronger than before, Harry. You can feel it, can't you?"

Harry didn't answer.

"There is a very slim chance in killing him," Dumbledore continued, "but _this-" _He held up the time-turner with a sort of triumphant grin- "is going to be much help in your journey. You see, Voldemort cannot be killed- or, at least, not without destroying his Hocruxes."

"Hocruxes, sir?" Harry repeated, feeling quite dizzy.

"It contains a very sort of complex spell that can rip your soul into pieces," Dumbledore continued hastily, "and we have no idea where to start looking for them. He has already made several, and we cannot just start looking for them in the middle of the school year, lest we make the staff and students suspicious.

"You, Harry, must go back in time to kill Voldemort, once and for all. I will send you back to Hogwarts, in the year 1943, in which you must befriend him and destroy him once you have gained his trust, seeing as though even when he was young, he could not be killed easily."

Harry felt as though he had gotten a huge electric shock. The whole idea, of befriending the very man that _killed_ his parents, not to mention hundreds of others, made him sick to the stomach. But to kill the man in question, to kill Lord Voldemort with his own bare hands, made him feel a vicious sort of happiness that he never knew was in him.

"Will you accept?" Dumbledore asked, his voice almost pleading. "Harry, this may be our only chance to kill him. Please."

Harry stared at the old man. He was asking- no, _begging- _him to kill a person, a human being. And then he thought of his parents, and Neville Longbottom's, and Susan Bone's mother, and every single bad thing that ever happened to him.

_That- that __**thing**__ is NOT a human being, _Harry thought, _and I WILL avenge my parents._

He grabbed the Time-Turner, feeling the cool chains slip in between his fingers. He glanced down at it, before turning to Dumbledore.

"How many turns?" He asked.

**AN: Hello to all you wonderful, geeky fangirls and boys! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, seeing as it is my very first fanfiction to be published on here. I hope I didn't make the characters too out of character, but if I did, please tell me so I can fix it.**

**I do realize there are many fanfictions like this out there, but I do hope you'll find mine to be unique. And please review! God knows I need it.**

**Ever yours,**

**The_Quirkster**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hi, guys! I'm sorry for not posting sooner, and I can only offer my sincerest apologies and the lame excuse of homework. For eight months. But now, I feel as though my nonexistent English project can wait, and I've decided to continue the story. So- please comment below, and with that, enjoy my 12:00 A.M. ramblings. **_

Tom Riddle was not having a good day.

Like always, he woke up earlier than the rest of the Slytherins, put on his robes, and crept out of the dungeons, visiting the Chamber of Secrets to give a little treat to his beloved little pet. She was ravenous, having gone without food for almost twelve hours, poor thing, but when he tried to feed her, she nearly bit off his hand. It took three spells and one rather large bandage to get his fingers to stop swelling.

Afterwards, at breakfast in the Great Hall, a clumsy 1st year accidentally spilled her piping hot tea all over him. The pain was not nearly as annoying as her apologetic screeches, and he had to miss the entirety of both Potions and Charms, meaning double homework since he had to miss most of his classes yesterday, as he was a tad preoccupied with that lovely Lucretia Black in the broom closet. (It really was a shame she was doomed to marry that grotesque Ignatius Prewett and his horrifyingly red hair. She wasn't up to Tom's standards, of course, but he would've thought she would've married someone without the characteristics of a leprechaun).

And now, after an exhausting day, he was trudging through the hallways, making his way past the current of students, all laughing and chattering and hugging as though they hadn't seen each other in years. He elbowed one particularly annoying Hufflepuff out of his way, when something small and hard pushed against his chest, sending him spiraling into a group of Ravenclaw girls and onto his back.

The small and hard thing in question, was a boy right on top of his chest.

He gasped out loud, trying to catch the breath that the other boy had knocked out of his chest. He was vaguely aware of the girls whispering and giggling around him. He looked up to meet a green-eyed stare, peering down into his face with something akin to both curiosity and… hatred?

"Tom, Tom!" Someone cried, and the face of Lucretia Black looked down anxiously from above the green-eyed boy. She roughly pushed the boy off of him, and propped him up on his legs. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Tom said in a low, even voice. The boy that had bumped into him sat on the floor, robes fanning out all around him on the wooden floorboards. His pale face was rough with anger, as if Tom had murdered his entire family or something. He looked very messy, as though he'd put on all his clothing and brushed his untidy black hair in a dark room. Blindfolded.

"It's _you." _The boy said, breathing heavily, as though he'd just ran a mile. There was no doubt about it- it was hate that was scrunching up his small nose, twisting his chapped lips, darkening his green eyes. He looked as though he would like nothing more than to slice up Tom into a million little bite-sized pieces.

"What on Earth are you _talking about?" _Tom asked, looking down at the boy with disdain in his clear gray eyes. The boy just rubbed his elbow and gave Tom a loathing stare. A professor suddenly appeared at the boy's side, helping him up. Tom growled as Dumbledore's twinkly-eyed smile brightened the room.

"What's happened here?" He asked, almost too cheerfully. Tom crossed his arms and faked a smile.

"Nothing at all, Professor," he said smoothly. "This lovely boy and I were just getting well-acquainted on the floor."

Laughter rose from the small crowd surrounding Tom. The Transfiguration professor kept his serene look, but his grip on the boy's shoulder tightened.

"Come along now, Harry." He said quietly. The boy said nothing more, but gave Tom a deadly look once more before turning around to follow the batty old man away from the crowd. Lucretia took Tom's arm and squeezed it gently.

"That was weird." She murmured. "It seemed like he knew you."

"It did," Tom muttered. "Didn't it?"

And as he probed at his sore elbow, his day had suddenly gone from bad to worse.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey, guys, and thanks for all your reviews! Once again, I'm sorry that the hiatus was so long, but I'm going to try and update as much as I can. So- comment below, and with that, enjoy!**_

"Mr. Potter."

Fidgeting in his chair, Harry's skin crawled as the stern, angry voice of Professor Dippet came thundering into his ears. It wasn't as if he bumped into that dark-haired, grey-eyed monstrosity on _purpose. _For some reason, 1930s Hogwarts was even livelier than modern-day Hogwarts, which meant people racing down the hallways, bumping into other people, and causing them to crash-land on the people who killed their parents.

What was worse, any chance of befriending Tom was gone. Harry was never good at keeping his emotions in check, but the rage that boiled under his skin was so utterly unbearable, he felt as though he'd explode the next time he saw that disdainful look in the other boy's face.

"Harry, are you even listening? You can't just go around tackling Tom, no matter what he had done to you! He's a student here, and students cannot go around proclaiming their hatred to other students, especially to students they'd supposedly never met before. This is a peaceful school, and I will not have you mucking about, causing fights amongst other students." Professor Dippet's face was scrunched-up, as though he'd just sucked on a lemon.

Harry couldn't help but gape at the old man sitting in front of him. What was he even _saying? _Harry was going to have to kill Tom, at the most before the holidays, which, according to the calendar, was three months away. Three months to murder a student that allegedly was perfect in every way possible.

Of course, he hadn't said so to Professor Dippet, but when he had found him lying in the hallway last night, groaning and asking for "Headmaster Dumbledore", the Transfiguration professor, the old codger had known that something was up. He demanded to know everything, but Harry wasn't an idiot. He couldn't just say, "Oh, I've come to kill a model student of yours in order to prevent my parents' and millions of others' deaths," Dippet would think he was absolutely insane.

So, instead, he told him that he'd come from a gravely important mission from the future, which personally made him sound really cool and mysterious, but Dippet didn't seem to believe him. So he showed him the Time-Turner, and explained what Dumbledore had told him- leaving out the whole killing part, of course. He told him about Lord Voldemort, and how he had to be stopped from a young age so it would never come to what it was in the present day Wizarding World.

Professor Dippet consented to let Harry in the school, but with the mutual agreement that Harry would not interfere with anyone or anything else, should he make the wrong move and accidentally change the future (killing Tom and all notwithstanding). Which meant no friends, _at_ _all_, and no talking to anyone longer than necessary.

Professor Dippet also added that he would have to be Sorted all over again, seeing as though he was from the future, and the Sorting Hat wasn't some TARDIS that could remember an event from the future before it happened. Well, Professor Dippet didn't exactly say it in those words, but it was basically what he meant.

The Sorting Hat was as eccentric as Harry remembered.

_**Come from a different time, haven't you? **_The Sorting Hat said when it was put on Harry's head. _**Very interesting… and on a mission, no less! You're driven, I'll give you that, although definitely not a Ravenclaw… time should not be thrown about so carelessly, any idiot would know. **_

Harry grumbled. "I'm not an idiot."

_**No, you aren't, but you don't use your common sense at times. You're stubborn, and you let your pride get in the way of asking for help when you need it most. You have a habit of losing things, you're not very strong, and you let emotions get the best of you.**_

Apparently, this Sorting Hat liked to focus on Harry's flaws. And according to it, he had many of them.

"Can you just get on with it?!" Harry had burst out in frustration, making Dippet jump.

_**You're brave, yes, and loyal to friends… you were already put in Gryffindor, weren't you?**_

_No, _Harry thought suddenly. _Put me in Slytherin. I have to get close to Tom Riddle._

_**Are you sure? Gryffindor would do well with someone courageous…**_

"_Please_ put me in Slytherin,_" _Harry said out loud, gritting his teeth.

_**Oh, all right, all right. **_

_**SLYTHERIN!**_

After all that bit of nonsense was over with, Harry was brought robes, which were a little heavier than the robes he was accustomed to, but he tried not to complain. Headmaster Dippet was already being extremely kind, he reminded himself. Tom was one of his favorite students, and he wasn't even aware of what was going on until Harry had told him about his Death Eater followers. Dippet even gave him an offer to help with his lessons, which made Harry flush bright red and tell him it was unnecessary. After all, he was only going to stay here until he could find a way to bring Tom to reason. Or, at least, that's what he told the old man.

Now, though, he looked up into the Headmaster's face, and he wondered if he should tell him about his parents. It was Tom's fault. All of it. Every single thing that went wrong in his life was because of that wretched monster. If his parents were alive, he wouldn't have to live with a family who despised him like he had killed a puppy right in front of them. If his parents were alive, he wouldn't have to be the Chosen One. He would be normal, he would be happy and loved and safe…

But no. He couldn't tell the professor. It was clear that he was very fond of Tom, despite what Harry had told him. And Harry wasn't one to make an old man cry. So, staring down at his feet, he mumbled, "Sorry, Professor. I wasn't trying to pick a fight with anyone. It won't happen again."

When he looked back up, Headmaster Dippet was staring at Harry with a scrutinizing expression, his eyes boring into Harry's as if he knew Harry was lying.

"Good," he said, after what seemed to be an hour-long pause, and broke their eye contact. "Now, it's been a long day, and I suspect you'll want to go to bed. Professor Slughorn will show you to your dorm…"

"No, that's okay," Harry said absentmindedly. "I already know the way."

Professor Dippet raised his eyebrows. "You said you were a Gryffindor?"

"U-um, yeah, but I just… know the way anyway." He finished lamely. "My best friend is a Slytherin."

"Mhmm." He could tell the Headmaster wasn't convinced, but giving Harry a small smile, he excused him without asking another question, and Harry let out a relieved sigh as he exited the office, and hurried down the hall.

He was going to need to work on his lying skills if he wanted to get through the year.


End file.
